


A Silent Swan Song

by bootybothered



Category: Looking For Alibrandi - Melina Marchetta
Genre: Angst, Gen, I wrote this as an assignment a while ago, Implied/Referenced Suicide, John's father sucks... josie kinda does too, References to Depression, Suicide, coz i felt it finally needed to be released to the wild, good enough - no one is reading this anyway lol, now im editing it at 3 in the morning instead of sleeping, there's a suicide note mentioned but only one line is pulled from it, uhh, uhh where do i start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29561232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bootybothered/pseuds/bootybothered
Summary: I wrote this for my Grade 10 English narrative assignment roughly a year ago. The assignment stated that we had to write about a secondary character to fill in a gap in the original novel. We had to write the assignment (*cough* fanfiction *cough*) as a draft, then sit in exam conditions and rewrite the entire thing from memory. I got a grade of B-.Summary: John writes his letter.





	A Silent Swan Song

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this roughly a year ago. It is somewhat edited but only for slight grammar and word choice - the plot stays the exact same as when I first wrote it.
> 
> (Also posted on Fanfiction.net under the same name if you for some reason want to visit... I haven't written anything else on there, so have fun with that.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: This is angst and revolves entirely around suicide (It's not graphic at all but it's still there). If you are for some reason here, reading this fic (who even is in this fandom??), proceed with caution that sort of thing affects you.

"I wish I had the guts to say it to her face, or maybe even ask for help, John flops down onto his mattress. _Hell, I wish I didn't feel this way at all._ John fought the urge to fall asleep, despite how tempting it seemed. All he wanted was to fall asleep into his own little world of blissful ignorance and forget about all the stress. But he couldn't; not with so much on his mind.

Earlier that day, John and Josie had bumped into each other in town before making their way together to a café in the quiet part of town where they sat and drank coffee. They sat there all too aware of the awkward air between them for what felt like hours before he blurted out 'I hate this shit life'. Josie had looked up at him aghast.

When she asked him what he had meant, John confessed that his father was too controlling and that he couldn't handle the strain of trying to impress him constantly. He told her how he only seemed to love John if he'd achieved something. He told her he couldn't bear to see the look of disappointment on his father's face every other afternoon when he came home.

Josie has dismissed his worries, assuring him he was just overreacting, and he'd almost believed her.

But John knew better, and for once in his life, he wished he was wrong.

 _You knew this would happen,_ A traitorous voice in his head chided. _She doesn't even care about you, no one does._ He drew out a long sigh.

John sat up and lifted a hand to rub at his tired eyes. He got up and stumbled out of his room, into the hallway. As he made his way towards the bathroom, he'd noticed as he passed by, the door to his father's office cracked open, light pouring out. If he strained his ears, he would have been able to pick up the gentle tap-tap-tap of the keys as his father types away at his laptop.

 _He's always working, it's no wonder why he's always tired._ _He snorts although the humour is lost. Like I can talk - I'm no better._

He continued down the hall and took a left, arriving at his destination. John reached out a shaky hand towards the door, hesitating when he realised how terrible he must look. Brushing the thought off, he grasped the handle and pushed the door open, wincing when it creaked in protest. John entered the room, pushing the door gently closed behind him then made his way over to the sink. He ran the tap cupping water in his hands and splashed it at his face, making a slight mess in his carelessness.

He gripped the edge of the sink and looked up at his reflection in the mirror and grimaced, taking in his appearance. "I look like shit," he hissed under his breath. John could hardly recognise himself. His hair was dishevelled, sticking up in all directions, his skin was pale and blotchy and was beginning to break out, and to complete the look, he had large, dark circles underneath his eyes. Had the situation been any different, he would have laughed at the fact that he looked like a feral racoon.

John stared a few moments longer before hanging his head low to avoid looking at the boy in the mirror any longer than he had to. "This isn't healthy," he mumbled. He'd been repeating that to himself like a goddamn mantra for the past few weeks in a last-ditch attempt at self-redemption.

He grits his teeth, _I can't take it anymore. All this pressure is starting to get to me, can't he see that? ...I tried so hard, and yet it was never enough. It never will be enough, not for him._ He choked, holding back tears as he sunk down to his hands and knees before his legs decided to give up on him.

"F-Father, why can't you see how hard I've worked for you to love me?" John couldn't hold it anymore at burst into tears, become a hiccupping mess before long.

After several minutes had passed, his crying had died down into quiet sniffles. Once he had finally somewhat recollected himself, John wiped his face with his sleeve, leaving tear tracks stained on damp cheeks.

His frayed thoughts drifted back to his meeting with Josie that day, they had both promised to swap letters with their feeling written down on them. They weren't allowed to read the other's letter until after HSC - that was still months away from now. _That leaves me with plenty of time to-_ he makes a face at the thought. _But still…_ He stands up, snatches a piece of paper from in one of the cabinets and manages to scrawl all his thoughts and feelings down in the form of a short poem. His writing was atrocious, but strangely enough, he didn't particularly care at the moment.

"I don't want to live in this world anymore," He softly whispers. It feels almost taboo to admit aloud yet something about the feeling of freedom it grants him makes him want to smile... or puke. It acts as a confirmation of sorts, reminding him that there's no going back now. John Barton didn't know who he was, and he never would, the Universe just wouldn't allow for it. But John did know one thing; he wanted to escape. He wanted to be free, and he would do anything for that, even if that meant taking his own life.

He folded up the note and shoved it into his pocket. The last line of his letter to Josie ringing in his head.

_Everything remains the same, I am still alone._

**Author's Note:**

> You made it!
> 
> ...
> 
> Why are you here? lol
> 
> If you did indeed somehow stumble across this fic and decided to read through the whole thing and are not just the imaginary audience I am speaking to in my head... Thank you for reading! Thank you all for coming to the show - I'll see you in another few years when I for some reason write something else.


End file.
